


Watson's Jumpers

by Tiofrean



Series: Watson's everything [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Frottage, John coming home, M/M, Smut, also John's jumpers, octopus-hugs from Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiofrean/pseuds/Tiofrean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes back from a three days long conference to find Sherlock naked on a pile of his jumpers. Smut follows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watson's Jumpers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BooksOverPeople](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksOverPeople/gifts).



> A gift for BooksOverPeople, as a thank you for a wonderful idea (and not the last one, I'm sure)

“What the HELL are you doing?” John's voice echoed in their bedroom making Sherlock's eyes fly open.   
  
“John...” he moaned out, voice strangled and raspy. He looked up and saw his army doctor standing in the doorway, looking down at Sherlock with wide, unbelieving eyes. John took a careful step forward, dropping his overnight bag onto the floor.   
  
Sherlock arched his spine, tossed his head back and shifted his hips slightly. He was sprawled naked on a pile of John's jumpers, which he gathered up on the floor next to bed. His flushed skin made John's mouth water and the sight of his long, violinist's fingers wrapped around the thick length of his cock provoked a sympathetic response in the doctor's body.   
  
John took another measured step forward, trying in vain not to step on one of his many jumpers.   
“Sherlock... what were you thinking?” He asked again, incredulous, even though he already could feel himself harden. A sight of Sherlock, touching himself openly, atop his clothes or not... god, it never failed to tighten John's pants.   
  
The detective looked up at him again, gaze suddenly shy even as his hand worked his hard and flushed cock with slow, luxurious strokes.   
“You're back... good... _so good, John_...” the last part was a strained whimper and it brought John to his knees next to his mad boyfriend. He crouched down, kneeling completely once he unfastened his trousers to relieve the sudden pressure there. God, if he only knew what he was missing while being on that bloody conference.   
  
“Sherlock” he inquired in a hushed, soft tone, one hand automatically shooting to the detective's thigh, stroking it lightly.   
“Mmmhhmmmm...”  
“I get that you really missed me for the past three days” the doctor smiled fondly, watching as his lover writhed beneath him, the desire apparent in his every move.   
  
“You... you were gone... for far too long...” he gasped, speeding his hand a little, his other gripping John's trouser-clad leg. The doctor shook his head and stripped from his jacket and a cardigan he was wearing, leaving the t-shirt underneath. It bunched up a bit exposing his abdomen and Sherlock reached out to stroke the soft skin there, eyes dark and hungry. He licked his lips, looking up at John.  
  
“Did you miss me, John?” He punctuated the question with a long and slow roll of his hips and the other man couldn't wait any longer. He leaned down, grabbing Sherlock's neck and tilting his head up for a hot and long kiss. The detective moaned into it, eyes fluttering shut as his senses were filled with John. His wonderful soldier, whom he missed so damn much, even if the conference was only three days long.   
  
When they finally parted for air, John looked down at him with soft eyes that made Sherlock see all the love the little man had in him.   
“I missed you more than you can imagine, Sherlock” he ran his hand over the other man sides, skimming it down his ribs and lower, until he could grip one of his jutting hipbones and cradle it almost protectively. The detective shivered, letting out a long sigh.   
“I even took a souvenir with me” John smiled and reached to his back pocket. The taller man watched fascinated as he produced a bunched up bow-tie. His eyes widened in realization. It was the same bow-tie with which Sherlock tied him two days before the conference and fucked him silly against their window. John smiled devilishly seeing the reaction it provoked.   
  
“God, Sherlock... you have no idea how glad I was that my hotel room had solid walls...” he brought the bundled sliver of black fabric to his nose and inhaled, closing his eyes in delight. Sherlock groaned, his hand shooting to his balls and tugging them slightly in a desperate attempt to stop himself from coming. Seeing John like this... good god, Sherlock's brain was fried on the spot.   
  
“Maybe we should continue with this, then” the detective rasped, making the doctor look at him. His hips kept moving in an unconscious attempt to get some kind of friction, his high, royal cheekbones were flushed pink and his hair disheveled. He looked ravishing, so John bowed down again and proceeded to kiss him silly.   
  
“Why on top of my jumpers, though? Did you absolutely have to take all of them out?” He asked after a moment, voice raspy. He started to get rid of his trousers and t-shirt, throwing them behind his shoulder, with his pants close behind them. Sherlock licked his lips again, his hand going back to his neglected cock, giving it a few languid strokes. He moaned into it, arching back and closing his eyes again.   
“Wanted you... to have a reminder... when you are away...” he groaned out, hips moving, his whole body vibrating from pleasure. The fact that John was watching him carefully – Sherlock could almost feel his hungry gaze sweeping over his skin – made it only better. He could feel how close to the edge he was and he wanted to do nothing more but tumble over it.   
  
Suddenly he felt a strong grip on his wrist stilling his hand. He groaned in frustration, the edge he was chasing running away from him. Sherlock was ready to snap, plead, beg... anything. He must have looked frustrated, because he didn't even have the time to open his eyes before John's voice was in his ear, whispering softly.   
  
“Shh... slow down...” the doctor licked the shell of his ear and dipped his tongue inside. The slick movement made something snap in Sherlock's brain.   
“John... please... let me... _please_... John!” He chanted, his mind apparently on short vacation. He could feel John installing himself between his spread legs, he could feel John's hardness pressing into his belly, his thigh rubbing over Sherlock's balls... He moaned again, hands falling to his sides and fisting in the soft jumpers beneath.   
  
“Shh... I've got you, Sherlock” the doctor soothed, kissing him again. He wormed one hand between their bodies and...   
  
Oh...   
  
_OH._  
  
Sherlock felt something cool and slick encircle his shaft and his eyes popped open. He stared straight into John's deep blue eyes, the desire in them making him feel fuzzy. The doctor must have taken the lube out of their nightstand when Sherlock was saying good-bye to his higher brain functions and was now slicking them both. The doctor grinned, kissing him again and thrust experimentally.   
  
Sherlock nearly shouted.   
  
They rarely did this, usually too eager to feel the other inside or around their heated body, but the detective could never get over how wonderful this felt. The slick slide of their shafts, the delicate heads rubbing together, then coming apart for a moment, before the next movement brought them close again. It was delicious, and the way an occasional hair or imperfection of skin made Sherlock shiver in pleasure only spurred John on.   
  
Before long their movements became erratic, quick seeking thrusts from John and aborted jerks from Sherlock. The detective was close once again, and John could sense it with every fiber of his body. He pulled up a little, wanting to confirm his suspicions and yes... there it was. The wide-eyed stare Sherlock gave him was almost frightening.   
  
John had once been scared when the detective looked at him like this. His eyes opened like a deer caught in the head-lights, mouth opened in something resembling a quiet desperation. It was never the desperation to come, it was the desperation for him. For John. Even in the midst of his orgasms, Sherlock always reached out for him, always tried to pull him close, to somewhat shelter his vulnerable body with John, like he was a gigantic, living and breathing blanket.   
  
So when the doctor saw that stare again he just dove down, gathered Sherlock in his arms and hugged him as closely as he could without ceasing the rhythmic movement of his hips. He pressed them together, tucking Sherlock's head into his neck and whispering in his ear.   
“Come now, love... come for me, Sherlock...”  
  
He could feel it happen. The other man's body went tense for a split second, before it uncoiled, hands scrambling frantically on his back, hips jerking, and a hot fluid erupting between their bodies. Sherlock muffled his shout into his doctor's neck, attempting to press himself even closer to him, wrapping his legs tightly around John's hips.   
  
The doctor moaned, hips stuttering. It will always finish him off, that plain and simple desire for him in Sherlock's movements. He had never been with anyone who would make him feel so wanted and needed as his mad detective could at times like this. His body stiffened, lips parting with a helpless cry, when he felt himself explode, adding to the mess on Sherlock's belly.   
  
They stayed like this, breathing hard and bodies relaxing for a long time. When John finally felt his skin cool down – an unpleasant shiver ran down his back – he moved to stand up, but Sherlock was still keeping him in an octopus like hug, all long limbs and squeezing.   
“Hey, love...” John prompted softly. “Come on, let's take a shower and cuddle in the bed, hmm?”  
“Mhm” came his hummed replay and the hold on him lessened a little, so he stood up, stretching one hand toward the detective to help him stand.   
  
Sherlock looked at the offered hand and shook his head with a wicked smile on his exhausted face. John could only cry out a quick 'no!' before the detective rolled himself around in his jumpers, all their come gathered on his belly smearing into them. John stood and watched unbelieving as Sherlock grabbed a handful of the ones that were lying further from him and wiped his body with them. He then rolled over again for good measure.   
  
John shook his head trying to look displeased, but his big grin gave him away. He offered his hand again and this time Sherlock took it and let himself be lifted to his feet.   
“Did you really have to smear our come on all my jumpers?” The doctor tugged him to their bathroom and started the water running.   
“I want you to have a reminder of what you miss when you're away” he stated simply, getting into the shower.   
“I know what I miss...” John stepped under the hot spray and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's middle. He kissed the back of his neck up to his ear.   
  
“Trust me, I know what I miss, love.” 


End file.
